Eureka Springs

Black-eyed Susans

I wish every day could be Sunday in Eureka Springs. I am surrounded by limestone hills  that look into natural steep valleys. It has been raining for the past 3 days and water seeps through crevices in stone walls. Flowers grow in abundance like the Black-eyed Susan and Larkspur. The Indian Paintbrush paints brilliant red-orange and Coreopsis are healthy in yellow to reddish brown. The purple Coneflower pops up everywhere and close by visit tiny white flowers of Queen Anne's Lace and lovely Bergamot (bee balm). I have arrived -- the Writers' Colony. And this morning I have little to say although I am full of words of poetry. They spin inside my head like a top throwing out nouns and verbs at random which I grab and quickly write down so as not to forget the order of letters that flew not floated from someplace in the depth of the hills and valleys in which they are often lost for a time or forever, these words.

Driving through fear

I got to Rogers finally slowly soaking wet
weaving through streets and neighborhoods just beyond
the yellow and black signs foretelling Steep and Crooked
roads ahead. I was en route to Eureka springs, a good place to be.
Every time I travel 69W I am followed
by locals who know the hills well as I plod along
with chin on steering wheel.
During this trip through rain and wind
the rear view mirror reflected only head lights in fog.
I was storm-scared and then a memory of words spoke to me

Never brake around a turn, keep the speed steady.
Accelerate around a curve, control to a hug.
Driver's Ed instructor, '64

That day while driving those mountain roads
I found focus on the edge
steady rather than panic.
My car and I sang through the hills
the twists and turns, the zigs and zags.
Focus and control added exhilaration where struggle used to sit.
An unfamiliar grit stepped in and said, "Here, let me drive."
Acceleration need not include recklessness but
can exclude the anxiety that joins riding the breaks.
Confidence allowed driving through fear
with foot on the gas.

Woodland Symphony

We were staying in a cabin in the woods and I had never lived in the woods before. During that first trip I sat in a cedar rocking chair on the porch listening and this is what I heard:

Cock-a-doodle-do
squawks the oboe
playing rooster
in prelude to
a rising morning sun.

At symphony's center
woodland critters play
weaving sounds
in rhythmic pattern
of tinted harmony.

The conductor stands
to the side with
hands held behind as
baton loosely swings as
fingers slowly drum.

Chirping chirps
the piccolo birds
hum humorous notes
no note in minor key.

A big honker honks
to others across the way
French horns tuning
in fun filled fray.

Heard on the left and to the back
percussion impacts
the woodpecker pecks.

Horses trumpet from nearby corral
calls of whinnies and snorts
a stanza of fits and starts.

Cows bassoon their moos
in harmonic key crafting
multiples of musical interludes.

Symphony saturates each morning moment
measure by measure the melody happens
in promise to sing throughout the day and
soothe with vespers at Evensong.

All quietly soft
the light of the score
we sleep in the indigo night
of northern Arkansas.

http://www.wordlayers.com/woodland.htm

Easter Arkansas Drive

After two days of nothing but thunder storms, hail and wind the dogwood blossoms are existing in their own good time. There will be plenty for tomorrow, Easter Day in Eureka Springs. I just remembered a poem I wrote a few years back when my husband and I were spending some time in this area. I forgot my camera and so wrote an album instead. Here goes: Easter Arkansas Drive